Hardly a word had passed between the two men since Greg had been picked up, as Mycroft was rather invested in the files he was reading. Greg was excited to see a full library on Mycroft's private jet, and selected The Hobbit for the long plane ride. He didn't notice the small side glances that the Holmes was sending him, inspecting and deducing.
A black car picked them up from the airport and drove them into a little town called Ocean Park, right on the coast of Maine.
"How'd you find this place?" Greg asked, as they passed tiny blocks crammed with houses. "It's beautiful."
"The town itself is only six hours from a city under the name of Saratoga Springs, in New York state, where I was often invited for horse racing. One day I decided to adventure up the coast, and I found Ocean Park. I bought this building a few years ago." Mycroft pointed up at a gray house as they came to a smooth stop in front of it. "There's an older couple who live in the bottom apartment, and one of the upper apartments is rented. I have people taking care of that."
"Are we on the ocean?"
Mycroft pointed up the side road that the house was on the corner of. "Right over that crest."
Greg nodded, and pulled his suitcase out of the trunk of the car. "Oh bollocks. I forgot swim trunks." He looked down, embarrassed.
"There's a shop right down the road, but it is too late tonight, Gregory. It's almost three in the morning. Come, let's get everything upstairs."
Cringing, Greg followed, interested that Mycroft was carrying his own suitcase up two flights of stairs to get to the first door on the right. The younger man pulled out a key and unlocked the door. He flipped on a light to reveal a small kitchen. They walked inside; the other end of the kitchen opened into a short hallway on one side and small living room on the other. Two sets of french windowed doors opened into the master bedroom, and visible from the bottom of the stairs was another room.
"Which room should I take?" Greg asked, not wanting to accidentally tread on Mycroft's toes by picking his own room.
"You can have the master, if you so wish," Mycroft nodded towards the room, before tugging his suitcase towards the stairs.
Greg could hardly contain his confusion, as his understanding of the elder Holmes brother was that he had to have the best, and this was the main reason he had never made a move on him. That and the fact that their jobs were totally incompatible. Anyway.
"Thank you," Greg managed to say slowly.
"There are two rooms upstairs, I will be in the one to the side of the staircase should you need anything. Have a good night, Gregory."
"Goodnight." Now this was a strange state of affairs, with Mycroft sleeping in the NOT master bedroom, and also carrying his own suitcase around...
He pulled the doors closed, noting the bathroom next to the far set of doors, then walked over to the bed. It was a nicely made queen, with fine linens and feather pillows. A huge dresser with a mirror sat against the wall at the foot of the bed. Greg avoided looking at the mirror, not wanting to see some demon or something in its' dark depths. After changing, he climbed into the bed. It was a little large for just one person, but Mycroft probably wouldn't be interested in sharing a bed, right?
Greg was asleep before his head hit the embroidered pillows.
pbpbp
The next morning, Greg woke to the scent of eggs and bacon wafting through the room. He wondered briefly who was cooking, then quickly got dressed to go investigate. In the kitchen he found Mycroft in tan shorts and a blue plaid button down tshirt, cooking breakfast.
"Good morning Gregory, do take a seat," he greeted Greg warmly, nodding to the small table in one corner of the kitchen.
"Good morning," Greg responded, sitting down and wondering if Mycroft usually cooked his own breakfasts.
"How did you sleep?" Mycroft took half the eggs in the pan and put them on a plate with half the bacon and handed them to Greg.
"Decently enough, and you?" Unaccustomed to discussing things unrelated to Sherlock, Greg was struggling with not looking like a fool. It didn't help that Mycroft looked really good dressed down...
"Quite well. I did miss the bedding here."
The detective inspector found his cheeks heating up and focused in on eating the food in front of him.
"Where's that shop you were talking about?" he asked when his plate was clean. "I'd like to go swimming, if possible." He was trying to be as polite as possible, unsure where the line with Mycroft was.
"The shop is right down the street, I'll take you once these dishes are cleaned. And do relax, Gregory. This is a vacation."
A small smile passed between them, with Mycroft deducing more than he was willing to let on.
"Do you normally do your own dishes and everything?" Greg couldn't help but ask when the other stood to take care of the dishes. He immediately regretted asking, and was prepared to be told to leave.
"It surprises most people that I do these things on holidays. It isn't easy being the government." Mycroft smiled down at the dirty water in the sink, before turning to catch Greg's glance. "Besides, what's a better way to make a friend than to do something for the other?"
Greg laughed loudly, once again immediately regretting his actions. "Sorry, I-"
"Not to worry Gregory. Are you ready to explore the town?"